The Backfiles
by Icon HBK
Summary: Some things are happening in little South Park, what's the best way of finding it out? Spying and stealing the boys diaries!
1. 01 Slut

**-You're such a fucking slut kenny-**  
Then a right sided uppercut came to Cartman's body, who, trained as he was, dodged and took the hand that had thrown it.  
**-And so fucking weak, you douche bag!-**  
Eric pinned Kenny down to the school hallway floor, placing his right knee over the other teenager's back.  
**-Say it Kenny!!! Say it!-**

_Don't mess with the quarterback of the cows, Kenneth..._

**-I'm so NOT saying it, Eric!-**  
**-SAY IT, KENNY!-**  
Cartman pressed his knee harder on the other boy's back, making him hit his face against the floor.  
**-God damnit, no, Cartman, no!!!!-**

_Don't mess with the captain of the judo team, Kenneth..._

_He knew he had me…He damn well knew… He had founded me on the bathrooms, with Clyde… Damn you and your moans Clyde Donovan, DAMN YOU!!_

**-So, are you saying it or do I have to pay up, huh??-**  
Eric said with a funny smile on his face, sort of when he has one of his nazi plans.  
**-Come on, Ken! Everybody knows it! Except… Your parents, of course. So why dontcha just SCREAM IT out loud?-**  
**-F-Off, CARTMAN!!-**

Suddenly, a shovel came over Eric's head, making him instantly faint.  
**-Zhere eez nozhing to see. Beet eet all of you, cock-sucking assholes…-**

_Thank hell Mole hates Cartman!_

**-Thank you man, I thought he was going to get me pinned forever…-**  
Kenny said while standing up, receiving a fine push against a wall.

**-Hey! I'm not going to be saving your ass all ze time, you idiot! Learn to fight back or get yourself away from bullies!!-**  
And he went away.

_He is "so sweet"! That's his way to tell me to take care._


	2. 02 Punching Bag

**-I'm Gonna kick your ass SO hard, you skinny bitch!-**  
**-Oh yeah?? Well, fuck you, fatso! I'm SO kicking you harder!-**

Both scales were placing one beside the other, digital and all, that new gym sure was modern.  
All the kids in town were gathered there to watch the match of the century:

Cartman vs. Tucker

**-We need you to be left only on your trunks, kids. So the weighing can be precise.-**  
**-Sure thing Mr. That shall scare the crap outta this bitch.-** Cartman begun, removing a bulty red jacket out.

_Then a blue one._  
_Then a yellow one._  
_Then he pulled out a gray sweatshirt._

Craig just stared at Eric, and then glared at the other boys, not believing what his eyes were seeing.

_Then a striped black sweater._  
_Then a white shirt._  
_Then a sleeveless red t-shirt._

All jaws dropped off.

**-C.... Cartman... Cartman... Eric...-** Tried to say Kyle, barely speaking.  
Stan hitted his boyfriend's jaw back to his place, clarifying his throat to call the redhead's attencion.

_Finally he removed his pants, leaving himself on black tight trunks._

**-Very freaking impressive, huh? Ready to back off, 'ho?-** Cartman smiled, looking at Craig.  
Craig couldn't believe his eyes, he removed the blue jacket, a black shirt and his pants, staying on blue trunks, still looking at Eric.

**-A... Allright kids, so... Get on the scales.-**

**-Oooh I sure do hope i will not break it!!-** Eric laughed at himself, used now to be called fat.  
**-....S...Sure t...hing...-** Craig Stuttered, trying to smile at the joke.

They got on the scales, all eyes over them.

**-Fine... So... With a weight of 132.277 pounds... Craaaaig Tucker!!-**  
Craig kinda smiled.

**-That's your weight, honey.-** Stan said, hugging a still shocked Kyle.  
**-Y... Yeah.-**  
**-...-** Stan sighed, smiling almost sadly.  
Kyle blinked once. For the first time since Eric had stayed on trunks.  
**-Wait........... WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY??!!-** Kyle turned towards Stan, hitting his boyfriend's arm with his fist.  
**-Don't you say my weight, you...! Disrespectful dumb!-** He crossed his arms, blushed and pissed off.  
Stan kept him hugged, giggling at his blush.

**-Aaaand.... Weighing 114.640 pounds... Eriiiic Cartman!!-**  
Cartman had been smiling, but, as soon as he heard that low quantity, he turned towards the man in charge.  
PISSED THE SHIT OFF.

**-That's gotta be a mistake, man, Do it again.-**  
**-The scales don't lie, young man.-**  
**-I SAID... DO IT-AGAIN!-**

The scale marked 114.638 the second time.

**-That's a robbery, Dude! You guys fucked up the machines!! You know what...?-** And he begun to get dressed up again.  
Kyle wasn't happy with it... And Stan wasn't happy that Kyle weren't happy about it.

**-Screw you guys, I'm going home.-** He picked all of his things and walked to the exit of the place, leaving them all completely shocked.

_They all leaved the place a few minutes after._

**-So... You think we should stop calling him fat?-** Asked Kyle leaning over his boyfriend's lap, while his hair was being re-curled by Stan.  
**-Dude... I'm sick of talking about Eric, you know nothing else?-**  
**-I'm just asking, sweetie. I mean... You saw him.-**  
**-Sure... But i bet you saw him better than i did, don't you?...-**  
**-Oh Geez.-**  
**-What?...-**  
-**You are JEALOUS!-**  
**-What?! No way, dude! I'm SURE Not.-**

Kyle kissed Stan's lips.

**-You look so sexy when you're jealous.-**  
**-... I do?-**  
The readhead nodded slowly, while a soft moan came from his lips.

**-Then i AM jealous.-** Stan Smiled, kissing him back.

_Cartman slept on his Pre-2010 Red Acura NSX that night._


	3. 03 Acura

**-Ah...-**

A soft moun was listened on the square room.

**-Shut up, Marjorine, this will end fast.-**  
**-You said that an hour ago, Eric...-**  
**-Well, then this shall take an hour less than what it had an hour ago, right?-**  
**-O-Okay then...-**

They were both locked on Eric's basement, Cartman was looking for clothing amongst his mother's old stuff, and now he was dressing Butters as a chick. Again.

**-C-Can you tell me again why did i agreeded to this?-**  
**-You need a job to get outta home and i need money to pay my bills.-**  
**-... O-Oh... That it was...-** Butters said, hitting his knuckles from one hand against the other.  
**-Damnit Butters stop that!-**  
**-...So-Sorry.-** And he stopped.  
**-Everything suits you big. HUGE. You and your damned whore waist...-**

Finally Eric found a light blue negligée, short up to the knee.

**-We'll have to cut your balls, Butters.-**  
**-W-WHAT?-**  
**-I mean... Sure your weener is small, yet... You have one.-**  
**-B-But Eric i do not want that!!-**  
**-God damnit Butters!! Sometimes we have to make sacrifices!!-**  
**-But Eric...!!-**  
**-No! Don't "But-Eric" Me!!-**  
**-My parent will ground me forever!!-**

He felt so stupid saying that, but it sure was the scariest thing of all!

**-Well... Then we shall pretend again that you died.-**  
**-A... Again?!-**  
**-Yeah, but this time it will be forever and it will work.-**  
**-T-They will not believe the pork thing again, Eric!...-**  
**-Oh, i know. We'll ask Kenny for help. He can throw himself off a roof and pretend it's you.-**  
**-E-Eric i think it is a BAD idea...-**  
**-Aw come on! You have seen Mr. Garrison! We can get you weener back later on if you don't like being a girl, ok?-**  
**-...O-Ok i guess...-**

Eric hugged him strong.

**-That's my man! Mean... Girl.-** And blinked.  
**-I... I sure hope there's lotsa anaesthesia there...-**  
**-I'll make sure that they'll have.-**

The appointment at the Trinidad Medical Center for three days more, in the meantime, Eric settled everything.  
Kenny agreeded to die for 155 dollars and nobody suspected anything weird on Butters' sudden suicide.

THREE DAYS LATER

**-A.. And don't i need to have like... Titties to work at raisins?-**  
**-Relax, you'll have them, all that things come with the package.-**  
**-And... Where will i live?...-**  
**-With your parents, of course!-**  
**-...?? What do you mean MY parents??-**  
**-Sure! I haven't explained that yet, have i? Well, the story goes something like this:-**

_You fell in love with a raisins girl, which is no wonder because of your past affair with Lexus. Well then, you and her got married at Las Vegas using fake IDs. She TRULY loved you, Butters, LUCKY YOU! And so, i'll introduce the sad sad little widow to her parents in law. To them, she shall explain that she lost her parents at a car crash, they'll pitty the little girl and shall keep her with them. **Understood?**_

Butters stood there, mouth and eyes opened wide.

**-Y-You came with this plan... Y-Yourself?-**  
**-Sure thing, now... Here we are, i'll stay here and watch that everything goes just as planned, i'll bring the papers from my house and when you wake up, i'll be here watching over you, Ok?-**  
**-O...Ok.-**

Then a nurse came and took Butters away, and almost immediately he was taken to the operating room.  
Eric then leaved. And went on a date with Wendy, going for the papers about ten minutes after the operation ended.


	4. 04 Love Is Soo Conformist

This is from the POV of the Red Goth (From the goth kids, you know, raisins?) Who, from now on will be named the next way:  
**  
**

**Goth Name  
**1.-Henrietta  
2.-Bran  
3.-Briar  
4.-Clove

**Conformist Name  
**1.-Jamie Kidd  
2.-Georgie Ibsen  
3.-Robert McLeod  
4.-Dean Morgan

**Who is?  
**1.-[The fat goth chick]  
2.-[The Kindergarden goth]  
3.-[The tall curly goth]  
4.-[The red flippy hair goth]

* * *

Messy brown hair, jewel-like green eyes, that cool accent and the way he walks, the way he passed them all and kicked my foot.

**"Hey, do you 'ave a cigarette?"**

I couldn't believe it, he was there in front of me and i went frozen.

**"God... You really 'ave to be zhis stupeed?"**

**"God doesn't exist"** I slowly replied.

**"Ees zhat so? Eef he doesn't exist, zhen who's to blame for all of our misery, huh, dumbfuck?"**

We all stood frozen this time.  
And he sighed and left, clenching his fists for not getting the cigarette.

_I watched him die at the arms of the antichrist a few hours later that day._


	5. 05 Spinning Without Moving

**-Sure this is original?-**  
_-Yes,yes. My parents got it from a bid over at Munich. So what? Last offer, take it or leave it.-_  
**-Don't you dare to talk to me that way again, you're the one who needs me, blöd.-**  
_-...Alright.. Take it, but you owe me like four favors for it.-_  
**-I'll check. If it is an original painting i'll be owing you like 10 favors.-**  
_-Cool, then i'll think of the other nine from this moment.-_

Eric Then left, and gave a few calls to some of his mother's friends, in a way to know if the Tuckers had bought any Hitler painting during their stay at Munich.  
Then, an art expert to know if it was an original.

**-Ten favors. No more then that. Never in your life.-**  
_-Right, so, i want to give a serenade to Tweek.-_  
**-Fine, piece of Kuchen.-**  
_-Can't you say 'CAKE'?!-_  
**-Yes, but it is boring.-**  
_-... Screw you, Eric.-_  
**-Does that count as a favor?-**  
_-... It's a pop/rock song.-_  
**-Which one?-**  
_-'Please don't leave me'-_  
**-I won't, tell me which one.-**

Eric then laughed. It wasn't a really loud noise, neither was it annoying, it was more of a clear sound, a bit like a waterfall and a bit like a Tommy Gun.

**-Right...When do you want it?-**

He finally said.

_-Tomorrow night.-_  
**-You nuts. I need time to learn it, to prepare the sound and the speakers and the mi...-**  
_-Acapella.-_  
**-WHAT?? My voice ain't that strong, i can't reach the second floor of his house...-**  
_-Then you'll have to do a rehearsal, don't you think? And you might as well start right NOW. And sleep well, i want you there at eight thirty!!-_  
**-...Fine, you asshole.-**

All of that night, Eric spent the time arranging the song to fit on his voice tone, and practicing to reach Tweek's second floor. This was the third time in the WEEK that Craig and Tweek fighted. Damn it sucked to be in the middle of them both.  
When he fighted Wendy, there was nobody in the middle to make them happy again, were there??  
... Well... Actually he and Wendy never fighted.

**20:30**  
The next afternoon, it was raining, and Eric's suit was completely attached to his body, all of his muscles visible.  
Why the heck was Craig late?

**20:36  
**... Is this serious?

**20:58  
**This is fucking ridiculous.  
Screw Craig. Eric is going....... No, no Way.

**21:03  
**Craig arrived at Tweek's front door, swinging from one side to another like some sort of bell...  
Eric wasn't happy.  
He clenched his fists as Craig smiled at him.

**-You've got to be kidding me, Craig, are you drunk? And you stink of cigarette!!...-  
**_-Shhh... You'll wage zhim ub...-_**  
-Go and hide... I can't let him see you like this. No, wait...-**

Eric grabbed Craig and lifted him in weight, leaving him on the car, taking some green chocolate flowers from the seat of his car, beautifully arranged like a boucket.

_-Ogh! 'Ow nice of ye to bing mah a flowah bou... bo...-_  
**-Shut up, drunk. Stay here, don't talk and DON'T-PEE-OR-PUKE-ON-MY-LEATHER-SEATS.-  
**_-Yezh, yezh yezh, i'll beh a gowd boeh.-_

Eric Sighed... And approached to Craig's face in a menacing way.

**-I wish... With all my might... For Tweek to leave you soon. Before your alcoholism hurts him.-**

Craig stood there... Quiet... Those words will hurt in the morning...

Eric went out there, sang in a perfect tone, gave his all to cover Craig...  
Tweek still must believe that those chocolate-coffeine flowers came from the drunk ass that was asleep on Eric's car that night.


	6. 06 La mort de La Résistance

What do you do when you are eentoxicated from drinking rum 'teell you're down on ze ground?

All i can do ees to write.

**As lame and gay as zat ees.**

I've loved 'eem from ze first time i sa...  
Lame, gay.

I 'aven't.  
I 'ated heem. As i've 'ated all of my bosses, non more non less.

He ees all strange sometimes. I 'ate hees 'igh IQ and all of zhat zhings zhat 'e zhinks 'e do better zhan me.  
He can 'ave a fucking PHD on anyzhing zhat he wants.

Instead, he spends ze day 'anging around wiz me.  
Right now i'm about to set heem free.

I'll leave, forever.  
Or as long as i'm capable to go on new missions.  
I'll let heem a note and zhen it all be settled.

I 'ope zhat he missunderstands ze reason why i went to work for ze government instead of keep going wiz him.  
Wiz _La Resistance_.

Ze government doesn't pay better.  
Neither i'm more comfortable.

But i need to get away from heem.  
**Now.**


	7. 07 Inhale The Smoke

_"As the winter fades, so does my conciousness, and so does my self confidence.  
You place your dagger under my chin and i shiver to the coldness of its touch.  
Slowly you drown the knife into my skin, and i think of the taste that my blood will have on your lips.  
This is my life, and it's ending within a blink of an eye.  
And as soon as a heartbeat changes its sound, i'm now under the spell that your glare brings to my mind.  
Lost inside the fire that your hatred has brought to the liquid on my spine, that boils untill my brain evaporates.  
I refuse to stay awake during the suffering that overcomes to the hellpass after death strikes.  
Now, as i lie before you, i recite my vows of lust and i accept this sorrow 'till death do us part."_

Clove took a long, long drag of the cigarette he was holding.

That might have been the darkest thing you've ever written. Briar said, moving his curly hair with the free hand.  
**You made me feel like a cheerleader.**, Henrietta threw the ashes out of her cigarette.  
_**I felt like i was the happiest person on earth...**_ Bran simply said from under the bed.

The other boy just kicked the hair out of his eye, closing his notebook with a dry sound, letting smoke out of his lungs.

_Fucking flattering bitches._

An uncomfortable silence came after. For about ten minutes none of them moved or talked.

You know what's the saddest thing of this all?  
**That we do are flattering bitches?  
**...... No. The fact that he wrote that out of love.  
**_And probably out of the pain in the ass that must be knowing that you have something from that dickhole Justin wannabee Craig Tucker inside yo...Ow...  
_Is not like he needs a reminder, GEORGIE...**

Things haven't been the same since that incident happened, probably they would never be the same again, not with them, not with his mother.  
He tried hard to seem like he didn't cared... Seem like the fact that his own mother sold him for 232 dollars and 25 cents had not afected him at all. That's why he was still living with her in that shit of place that was so-called house. Home? Bullcrap.

**_Flashback._**

It was a cloudy afternoon, whole of the goth gang was out of school (not like they were someday ACTUALLY at school...) and they split because Clove was in one of his particulary annoyingly non-depressive days, Bran wanted to go and light on fire the hair of some emos at the Mall, and Henrietta didn't wanted to hang around only with Briar, because: **"Hanging in couples is for conformists."** As they had stated.

So, alone and relaxed, Clove decided to take a walk around the town, visiting Stark's Pond and look at all of the conformists couples of lovers all around. Even the thought of them having sex was revolting.  
He hated sex.

Hated it as much as Eric Cartman hated cigarettes or its smoke around him. As much as Clyde hated people calling him fat.  
Or... As much as Christophe hated God, just as simple as that.

He hated the entire foreplay... He hated the gropping and mouning and dripping of fluids. But then again, there wasn't much he didn't hated.

His walk ended near his house, which happened to be right beside the McCormick's. Both almost the same, except that his house had the lower windows locked with pieces of wood, and, over the door, hanged a red bulbe that fired its light almost 'till the end of the street. Like always, he turned the bulb so it was left loose and couldn't light on, indicating that the business was closed.

"He's here...", he heard, and thought it would be his mother at the living room, so he came inside the house, eyes on the stained carpet... But there was no mouning noises, no screaming, no "grrs" or "aaahgs".

He went up to his room, avoiding the all-well-known speech of his mother about her losing the "touch", clients going low, bills to pay... The "_what-do-you-do-with-your-life-that's-more-important-than-helping-me"_ monologue that he always tuned out right in the part that says: "You are the same as your father, a worthless twerp with a pretty face!".  
Flatters always apreciated.

Since those pockmarks have healed, his life had been going up-down-uuuup-doooooooooown... And so on.

Green eyes, red curly hair, white/pinkish skin, perfectly milky teeth, cherry-like lips, bony fingers, tiny feet, skinny waist and long legs.  
All of that, hidden under tons of eye deliner, eye bags, never-smiling mouth, purple lipstick, black baggy clothing, black hair dye, permanent hair ironing, huge biker boots, black contacts and black gloves.

Oh, stupid nature, if you only knew where have you wasted your so called "gifts".

He'd always hated how pretty people would do anything to remain pretty. Bebe Stevens, Stan Marsh, Wendy Testaburguer, Clyde Donovan, Gregor... Well, those two were one of the little exceptions in that. Them both were gorgeus, beautiful like masterpieces of DNA. Blond hair, blue eyes, white skin, thin bodies, perfectly strong composition, AND brains. Damn that was luck, and Gregory didn't even tried. Beyond dressing good, he never actually avoided getting injured or scarred or anything, he simply... Was perfect. Reason why him and the sexy god hating french Christophe Delorne were meant to be together. A match made in heaven... Or... Hell or... Somewhere far away.

Well, as all of this thoughts were running around in his head, he reached the door of his bedroom, and opened it.

"Aye thar sweetheart." A fine hard hug awaited inside, and didn't even gave him time to respond before he were pinned with his back against the floor, at his right side a hand pretty bigger than his, to the left a face that at that distance he couldn't recognize, only after a few minutes he was able of seeing a pair of gray purple-ish eyes staring at his body.

"Craig Tucker, leave my house immediately or i will stick a knife up your a..." A violent, alcoholized, wet kiss sealed his lips, leaving a taste of bad branded beer on the inside of the redhead's mouth.  
"Shh... Ye look prettier when ye don't speak. And i bet ye'll look better without those stupid contacts..." The drunken boy then begun to move his thumbs over the eyelids of the other, untill the black contacts slided from under his eyelashes.

"There ya go. Ow ow oww... Sexy green eyes. Ye're one of those gingers, ain'tcha? Well never mind, i saw ya under da rain yesterday, i would've never imagined you have hidden such a cute figure under that freaky clothing."  
Clove could hardly speak... He did saw Tucker the day before, he was walking back to his home from Village Inn when rain struck him... And he made the dumb thing of looking at Craig's eyes while walking.  
Soon as that memory crossed his mind, Tucker had stripped him and was now enjoying the view, and caressing his waist with the finger tips.

"Damn... My Tweek's as thin as ya're and he doesn't have this form..." True.  
True! Tweek Tweak had been dating Craig for about two months, Craig was a sex addict, or so the rumours said.

_Well. Those weren't only rumours now._

Damn... He was hating the way he drowned on his own thoughts sometimes... And he hated it more when he felt the other boy move forward and got inside of him.

"Wha-! How dar-ah!... Nn..."  
"Mm... How cosy it is in here... Warm"...

All he could do was remain silent, not even a sound of pain, pleasure or a word of hatred was listened... Craig came inside him some... 2 or 3 times, but he must have been there about four or five hours. He could swear that he had used the whole sexual positions on the face of the earth and some others known only by aliens, space bacteries and people from the future.

Finally, at something like 6a.m., Craig came out of the bedroom, took a shower on the bathroom and the alcohol ran out of his sistem.

**_"I sure hope you have had a delightful evening, Mr. Tucker! We certainly hope to see you again soon!"_**

He watched him left from his bedroom, which was the first door in front of the stairs, he remained lying on the floor.  
Damn he hated the british accent of his mother... Good he didn't got any of his parents accent. And having his stepfather (Rest In Pieces) lastname saved him the trouble of dealing with Eric Cartman. So he didn't had to be called _**"Mr. Bekriegen"**_ or _**"Mr. Havisham."**_  
Plus, two Dickens' characters were too much for one single town.

**End of Flashback.**

Now a days, you know that any goth with self-respect can't go through life whisling a happy Barry Manilow song. Goths can't be happy. But well, doing it is part of being a non conformist.

_Hey there, Tweeky!_  
He yelled, running towards his new boyfriend, who had dumped Craig Tucker about two months ago, threwing his arms around his neck.  
At this point of his life, there wasn't anything that could bring his happiness down.

**But... That stays only between you and me.**


End file.
